


Stress Relief

by roroLmoney



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: I literally can’t believe I’m writing this, Just bros being bros, M/M, a real bro jacks his bro off as a favor when he’s too traumatized to get it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roroLmoney/pseuds/roroLmoney
Summary: Sylvain discovers that Dimitri has never managed to let go enough to masturbate. He helps Dimitri out, and has absolutely no feelings for his considerate, majestic, incredibly hot friend while doing it. None whatsoever.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 80
Kudos: 511





	1. A helping hand

Dimitri is stressed out.

Dimitri is often stressed these days, considering he has three countries to unite and restructure and the remnants of a war to manage. It’s a miserable task, even with the best possible support team at his back. Between Felix’s sharp tongue, the Professor’s tactics, Dedue’s calm wisdom, Annette’s skill with numbers, Mercedes’s now world-famous hospital, Ashe’s idealism, and Ingrid’s muscle, he certainly has the best group he could hope for working with him. But the burden of King is his alone and more than once over the last year he has worked himself into sickness, both mental and physical. He needs to unwind, and none of their friends seem to either notice or have the tenacity it takes to drill some self-care into Dimitri’s stubborn, self-deprecating head. This falls entirely to Sylvain, apparently, which he can hardly whine over. He knows Dimitri keeps him around mostly for sentimentality rather than any useful contributions; providing some stress-relief is something he can actually do to help his friend.

...he’s also been in a bit of a dry spell lately and needs someone to spend time with during nights lest he spend them alone with his thoughts. That dreadful prospect is enough to drive him through Dimitri’s obstinate refusal to cut himself the slightest bit of slack. Also, he fears he’s alienated his other friends too much lately, whereas Dimitri has been too busy to hear about the uptick in Sylvain’s philandering since the war. Some casual evenings spent catching up with an old friend should be good for both of them.

So he invites Dimitri to dinner, making sure it’s a night Dedue is cooking and the Professor is in town. It’s only a little awkward, as everything involving Dimitri is these days, the memory of his madness still fresh in everyone’s mind. But it’s been over a year since he came back to them and Sylvain thinks the best thing he can do for his friend is to treat him normally, not walk on eggshells around him the way the rest of their house barring Felix is doing.

He rallies a little when the Professor is called away on an urgent supply meeting. It’s easier to coax Dimitri out of his shell when he doesn’t have to worry about getting in any trouble. The Professor’s scoldings are a force to be reckoned with, even if they’re technically in no authority position over Sylvain anymore.

That seems like a pretty safe conversation topic. “They really haven’t changed at all, have they?”

“It’s incredible,” Dimitri says, brightening how he always used to do when the Professor was brought up. “The rest of us - we’ve all - well, with how things have turned out, it’s nice to see something has stayed the same.”

“Yeah, I feel like we’re kids in the Academy again. It is nice.”

It’s a good dinner. It feels like old times, a little bit, and Sylvain doesn’t want it to end. He invites Dimitri back to his room after for tea. He relishes in finally, after more than five grueling years, having his friend back without the chaos of war around them. It’s just so good to _talk_ to Dimitri again, and he doesn’t want it to stop, and tea eventually becomes wine instead, and the conversation turns to relationships.

“So you - pfft - what did you do?” Dimitri giggles, face flushed.

“I had no choice! She had locked the door and her husband was minutes away, so I just ran.”  
“With - with no clothes, and - ”

“Half-covered in chocolate, yeah. And the first person I run into of course, is Seteth because the goddess despises me, and I had to think of something, so I told him it was an assignment from the Professor on stealth in open terrain. But sometimes the goddess smiles even on the wicked, and the Professor passed by right as he was admonishing me and backed me up! They didn’t bat an eye, just said ‘Yeah, I told Sylvain to do that, perfect job my dear student,’ and walked away! They never mentioned it again.”

Dimitri snorts indelicately, his version of a normal person’s drunken guffaw. Sylvain grins with pride at getting his friend to laugh.

That adorable laugh and the rosy tinge of his cheeks make Sylvain wonder if one of Dimitri’s many admirers ever had any success with him. He sincerely doubts it, but...Dimitri really is very handsome, and quite the catch, with his endless kindness and bleeding heart. Someone surely had once caught his eye, and who could say no to such a chivalrous, strong, and devoted man?

Sylvain has to ask. “Sooo...what about you?” Dimitri blinks, confused, so he clarifies, “How have you been doing romantically, I mean?”

Dimitri chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time for anything resembling your romantic endeavors these days. I am far too occupied with the kingdom.”

This is not how friends unwind! Sylvain wants gossip and embarrassing stories, no stressful kingdom-talk. “Okay, well what about at the academy? I remember that one time you hid in my room. Did anything happen with her? Or there was that one girl who kept following you around for a month, what about her?”

Dimitri fidgets, looking away. “I - er - no, nothing, as you say, um, happened. With either of them.”

His dear friend is absolutely impossible to gossip with. “Come on, Dimitri, you must have _some_ kind of story, I’ve seen enough people interested in you. You really never pursued any of them? Never wanted to?”

Sylvain is incredibly grateful for the wine and their decades of close friendship, because there is no _way_ Dimitri would give the same honest response otherwise. “Ah, I, um. I have never really been. Interested. In a woman. Like that. Or anything of, um, that nature. I mean. Physically.”

Well, this confirms something Sylvain’s been suspicious about for a while. He’s pretty sure his dear friend’s persuasions lean towards men and he either hasn’t realized or accepted it yet. The pressure to marry and produce an heir must be hard, he’s sure, and knowing Dimitri, he never even allowed himself to think of being with anyone but a prospective wife. He knows Dimitri unsuccessfully tried courting some women when they were at the academy together. He tried his best not to pry but he’s sure Dimitri’s lack of ‘interest,’ as he says, was part of the problem. Duty and anxiety are antithetical to any kind of romance, throw in a lack of desire and, well...he’s sure Dimitri has never slept with anybody. Sylvain wants his friend to be happy, and he knows that’s an option for him, so he won’t hold back, as embarrassing as he knows this is about to be for his poor prudish friend.

“You know, some men aren’t interested in being with women at all. I’ve slept with several men whose preferences in partners are very particular. I don’t get it myself, I’ve never desired to limit myself like that, but I’ve seen the way you interact with Dorothea. The only other man I’ve ever seen who looks at her like that is Felix, and we all know about him. It’s perfectly natural. Have you ever considered dating a man instead?”

Dimitri blanches. “I - I’m not sure. I suppose, maybe, I might - consider. It. But. That’s not exactly my problem.”

Sylvain waits for a minute for him to elaborate, but that seems to be all he’ll say on the topic. “Okay, well...what do you think about when you, you know...” he makes a crude hand motion and the color returns to Dimitri’s face in a flush. “By yourself? Just think about that when you’re with somebody.”

Dimitri blinks, quiet, and Sylvain tries to read his blank face. “Is it the Professor? You can tell me if it is - they’re stunning, I’d do anything for a night with them. And I’ve seen how they look at you, you definitely have a shot. I could help!”  
Dimitri looks at him with a puzzled frown. “What do you mean? I just told you I couldn’t get interested in any of that. Why would I try with anyone else at all if I can’t feel anything by myself?”

Sylvain gapes. “You mean, you’ve never...never...like at ALL?” He’s totally lost for words

Dimitri shrugs, not even blushing, as though this is the most normal thing. “I can’t, ahh...” and there’s the blush. “I just don’t think I can, umm, respond. Physically.”

No. No! This is not possible. He is going to fix this. He needs to fix this!

“What about dreams? You’ve never woken up from a good dream with an erection?”  
His blush deepens even as his gaze darkens.

“I only ever have nightmares, which hardly put me in the mood.”

Oof. Time to pivot from that, but Sylvain tables the heavier conversation for later. Suddenly how tightly wound Dimitri is All The Time makes perfect sense. Sylvain had thought it was just his childhood trauma, which he’s sure is the biggest part still, but _this_. This, he can fix.

“Have you _tried_ to get in the mood? Not after a nightmare, just, I don’t know - before you go to bed? On a lazy afternoon? After training? You can’t say sparring has _never_ put you in the mood. All that charged tension, the close proximity? You’ve never even thought about it?”

“My...other thoughts are too loud. I can’t - I can’t shut them off, and I get distracted, and upset. I’d rather not go into them further, Sylvain.”

“Yeah okay, sure. Ever thought being with someone else would quiet them enough that you could just let it happen?”

Dimitri shrugs, grimacing. “I suppose it is possible. I don’t know how I could ever explain any of this to a person I’m trying to court.”

Sylvain takes a deep breath and prepares to jump off of this friendship cliff. This is crossing a line he’s never dared to before, too fearful of losing the only people who truly cared for him. But poor, poor Dimitri...he simply cannot let this stand.

“Let me help.”

Dimitri furrows his brows in confusion. “How on earth could you help?”  
“Oh precious, innocent, dear Dimitri. How do you think?”

The blush has spread to the tips of his ears now. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times, gaping like an adorable fish. “I - you - why - Sylvain?”

“Come on, Dimitri, I care about you. I’m not just going to let you go on suffering like this - don’t you deny it, I _know_ you’re suffering. This is just one part of it but it’s a part I can help with. I’m good at this, at least.” 

Dimitri shakes his head, frowning, and opens his mouth again, presumably to protest against Sylvain’s self-deprecation. Sylvain cuts him off with, “And you’re going to need an heir one day. Don’t you have, I don’t know, a responsibility to your future queen and people?”

Luckily, he seems to have hit a nerve. Dimitri grimaces. “I know. I’ve worried about this for some time now. I have a duty.”

“Yeah, a duty to get it up, come on, we’d be doing the whole kingdom a service. And an orgasm before bed would definitely help you sleep.”

 _There we go,_ he thinks. Dimitri can’t resist a little bit of duty-bound guilt, and the bags under his eyes are thickly sunken and black.

“Well, I suppose...you do not mind? Truly?” Now he looks a little shy instead of just embarrassed, fidgeting and not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. As though a night with him could possibly be a chore, or a favor, and not a once-in-a-lifetime privilege!

Sylvain presses his hands to each side of Dimitri’s face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. He looks deeply into his beautiful blue eye. “Dimitri, my sweetest, dearest friend...it would be my most sincere pleasure.”

He takes stock of the evening, Dimitri’s clear anxiety, and the empty bottle of wine, and sighs. He doesn’t want Dimitri to even slightly regret anything they might do. “How about you take the night and tomorrow to think it over?”

Dimitri smiles gratefully. “I don’t know how to thank you, Sylvain. You truly are a wonderful friend.” 

His earnest sincerity is too much. Sylvain feels dizzy at the sight of that radiant, genuine smile. He ruffles his hair sheepishly, a little overwhelmed. “Really, I’m doing what any decent person would do, there’s no need.” He quickly ushers Dimitri out of his room and tries his best to sleep.

The next day _drags._ Sylvain is checking the time at least thrice every half-hour, and he’s filled with a restless energy. He truly enjoys making people feel good physically, even if he’s never once had a positive _emotional_ effect on anyone. But he does care for Dimitri deeply, and he wants to help his friend through this. He also won’t deny, in the privacy of his mind, that he _has_ thought about what he might do with the king, given the opportunity. This is a fantasy come to life that he fully intends to enjoy.

Dimitri is practically vibrating with nervous energy when Sylvain finally comes to his room at night. He clears his throat three times before stuttering out, “h - hello - good evening, Syvlain - pardon, Syl - Sylvain.” He coughs, beet-red.

Sylvain sits next to him on the bed and wraps an arm around his friend’s (broad, muscled) shoulders. “Come on, Your Majesty, relax. It’s just me. We can stop this any time you want, just say the word.”

Dimitri scowls. “Call me Dimitri, please, Sylvain.” Good, that epithet always gets a rise out of him. Frustrated Dimitri is at least less anxious than flustered Dimitri.

Then he lets out a shuddering sigh. “But - thank you. Can we just sit here for a while?”

Warmth floods Sylvain against his will. How sweet. 

“Of course.” He starts to rub Dimitri’s back in what he hopes are slow, soothing circles. He remembers the king would calm down from physical contact when they were children.

They chat for a while - or, more accurately, Sylvain chats, while Dimitri listens attentively. He tells some stories of his escapades that he knows are more funny than scandalous, and once Dimitri is laughing easily and his posture is less tense, Sylvain takes his hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Dimitri’s bright smile doesn’t fade. He squeezes Sylvain’s hand and rubs his thumb across his knuckles. “Better. Ready. Thank you.”

Something twists in Sylvain’s chest. He really is gorgeous, and Sylvain takes a second to just sink into his brilliantly blue eye. His entire being feels lighter, airier. 

_Focus,_ he tells himself. _You’ve got a job to do._

“Okay, I want to kiss you. That okay?” He’s not going to go for Dimitri’s belt immediately, much as he wants to. This is about teaching Dimitri how to let himself feel good, and he’s sure his dear repressed friend has no idea how to even start going about that.  
Dimitri nods, his blush back in full force. “I am not entirely sure what to - what to do.”

“Shhh, I’ll show you,” Sylvain murmurs, placing one hand on Dimitri’s cheek to tilt his head as he leans in. He kisses him, soft and chaste, pressing their lips together lightly before pulling back. When he sees Dimitri’s stunned smile, he can’t help but kiss him again, and once more, relishing in the smile he can still feel on Dimitri’s lips. When he pulls several inches back finally, Dimitri chases him and kisses him back lightly. How can Sylvain resist? He delves into Dimitri, tonguing into his mouth and throwing his arms around his neck. Dimitri’s gasp of pleasure and uncertainly probing tongue against his own send shivers down his spine. Sylvain gently bites at Dimitri’s lower lip and Dimitri actually _moans_. 

“Holy shit,” Sylvain breathes. 

“I - sorry, I - it just slipped out.” Dimitri has the gall to look ashamed.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Sylvain whispers, then pushes him down onto the bed and kisses him again. Dimitri’s hands rest tentatively on his waist, and Sylvain hums in approval. Time to step it up. 

He twists one hand gently into Dimitri’s hair, trying not to get distracted at how soft it is. He fails at first and just strokes it, kissing him all the while, before he refocuses. He is a man with an objective tonight, and he can’t focus on himself. He pulls his head a little back. “Still doing good?”

“I - y-yeah - don’t stop.” Dimitri is panting, his hair beautifully mussed, a pretty blush dusting his cheeks. He’s clutching at Sylvain’s hips with a death grip, and Sylvain can’t tell if he’s consciously pulling him down or not but he’s super into it.

Sylvain couldn’t deny his gorgeous friend even if he wanted to. He bends back over and mouths at Dimitri’s neck. Dimitri gasps and tilts his head to give Sylvain better access, and he sets on to suck and bite at his collarbone. Dimitri is shivering now, panting heavily. 

_There we go,_ Sylvain thinks, flooding with a mix of arousal and pride. 

“You look gorgeous like this, Dimitri,” he says, slowly tracing his hand down Dimitri’s chest over his tunic. Dimitri shudders again and looks up at Sylvain with such vulnerability in his gaze that Sylvain knows he is well and truly fucked. He wants to give Dimitri anything and everything to keep looking at him like that, to keep trusting him so fully.

He gets to work, kissing him again while unbuttoning his tunic. He pulls it off, maneuvering Dimitri’s pliant arms, and pulls his shirt over his head.

Goddess, Dimitri is lovely. Sylvain traces his broad, battle-scarred, muscled chest with his eyes, and when Dimitri whimpers prettily, his hands. He bends down to suck another hickey into his neck, digging his teeth in just slightly and laving over the bite with his tongue. As he does that, he cups Dimitri’s soft pec in his hand and gently thumbs at his nipple. 

Dimitri gasps harshly. “Ahh, p-please do that again, Sylvain, please.”

So polite and proper still, even in the throes of - Sylvain hopes - desire. He needs to work harder if he wants to get Dimitri out of his head and forget about his responsibilities at all, it seems.

For now Sylvain can only oblige, gently rolling Dimitri’s other nipple between his thumb and forefinger until he squirms with pleasure. Dimitri gasps again and Sylvain helplessly moves down his body to take the first nipple in between his teeth, gently, and flick it with his tongue.

“Sylvain!” Dimitri shouts, bucking into his touch, and claps his hand over his own mouth in shame.

“No, hey, I want to hear you, don’t do that.” Sylvain pulls the offending hand into his own and starts kissing his fingertips, completely enamored with that blush. He’s just so innocent and sweet, but Sylvain can see a glimmer of heat in his eye, especially when he takes two fingers into his mouth and starts to suck greedily.

Dimitri moans again at that, eye fluttering shut in bliss. Sylvain sets to work, pressing his tongue in between Dimitri’s fingers and lightly scraping at them with his teeth. He imagines taking Dimitri’s cock inside his mouth like this and groans with desire. He usually doesn’t do that for the guys he’s been with but he _wants_ Dimitri inside him, filling him up, taking his pleasure for the first time from his mouth. He’s getting a little dizzy. Sylvain grips at Dimitri’s perfect chest again, just because he can, and circles his nipple gently.

“I - hah - don’t stop.” Dimitri’s opened his eye to fix a stunned, unblinking gaze on Sylvain. Sylvain doesn’t know if he _could_ stop. He wants to give Dimitri everything, show him all the ways he can feel good, take his demons away even just for a moment. The thought draws a sigh from his lips, and Dimitri’s fingers twitch in his mouth in response. He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting him filthily to Dimitri for a moment.

Dimitri paws at him desperately until he manages a firm grip on Sylvain’s shoulders. Then he pulls Sylvain bodily up to his lips and delves back into his mouth and Sylvain is lost again. Before he can register what’s happening, Dimitri flips them over effortlessly and pins Sylvain to the bed with his bulk. 

_I did this_ , Sylvain realizes. He brought Dimitri to this desperation with just a few light touches. He flexes, testing Dimitri’s control, and can’t move the larger man an inch. A tiny whimper escapes his lips and he prays that Dimitri didn’t hear it.

Okay, he’s lost control of this situation for too long. Time to get his head back on right, as much as he’d adore to let Dimitri manhandle him for the rest of their days. He has a job to do.

Sylvain gently presses his knee into Dimitri’s crotch. “Is this okay?”  
Dimitri gasps, pulling back a little, pupil blown wide. He’s panting too hard to say anything but he nods and thrusts against Sylvain’s leg. His desperate face is irresistible. Sylvain lets him work himself for a while, distracted by wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders. He feels dwarfed and used, enamored with Dimitri’s soft rhythmic gasps and the cords of muscle under his hands. He lightly pulls his beautiful hair and delicately scratches his nails into his muscled back. When Dimitri moans, Sylvain can’t suppress one in response. “Yes, oh, that’s good, come on Dimitri,” he whispers against his lips.

Sylvain practically whoops with delight when he feels a bulge start to form against his thigh. He drives up against it harder and Dimitri whimpers with every push. It’s hardly a full erection but this is apparently better than Dimitri has ever done by himself. He pushes at Dimitri’s shoulders and his king takes a few seconds to get the hint before he lets Sylvain flip their positions.

“Can I?” He whispers, placing his hands on the tie to Dimitri’s pants.

“P-please.” Dimitri grabs one of his hands and intertwines their fingers, looking up at him shyly through his eyelashes. Sylvain has to pause to breathe. His hand feels like it’s on fire. He wouldn’t let go for all the gold in Fodlan.

He takes his pants off as quickly as he can with one hand and draws Dimitri out. It’s just a little hard but wow is he hung, and Sylvain practically drools at the thought of Dimitri at full mast inside of him.

 _Probably too much of a fantasy_ , he tells himself sternly. This isn’t about him, and it would take too much time to prepare. He wants Dimitri to come as soon as he can manage.

He slides the hand not holding Dimitri’s own up his thigh, ignoring his cock to settle on his lower stomach. He can’t help but tease Dimitri just a little, and rubs soft circles into his hips and lower thighs. He also is hesitating just a little - he’s only been with a few men and while he’s confident they certainly all enjoyed themselves, this is Dimitri. He’s different. He’s special. Sylvain wants him to - needs him to - love this.

“ _Sylvain_ ,” Dimitri growls, low and dangerous. He tightens his grip on Sylvain’s hand and twists his other hand tightly into his hair. He _pulls_ savagely, and shivers run up Sylvain’s spine. Dimitri’s losing a little bit of that carefully crafted control and Sylvain is maybe a little scared, but mostly _delighted._

Dimitri, on the other hand, looks shocked and appalled at himself.

“I’m so sorry, that was absolutely barbaric, forgive me.” He starts to soften, looking miserable.

Sylvain, too turned on to think straight, shakes his head desperately. “No, no, don’t apologize, I love the sounds you make.” He slides up the larger man’s body and presses his lips against his ear. “And I _really_ loved that,” he murmurs. “Pull my hair as hard as you want. Have me however you want me.” He punctures the embarrassingly desperate admission with a nip at Dimitri’s ear and Dimitri growls again, pushing his hips demandingly up. Ever ready to serve, he obliges, and finally wraps his hand around Dimitri’s cock.

Dimitri’s breath is punched out of him in a desperate gasp. He crushes Sylvain’s other hand, still in Dimitri’s own, in a vice grip. “A-aah, Syl - oh, please, please...” He bucks his hips up into Sylvain’s fist, frantically chasing his friction, earlier shame totally forgotten.

The urgency in his voice is driving Sylvain wild. He’s never been this aroused without even being touched before. It’s greedy but he wants to hear Dimitri’s trembling voice again, just on the edge of losing his grip. 

Luckily, Sylvain is nothing if not greedy. “Tell me how it feels, Dimitri, come on,” he murmurs. Dimitri opens his mouth but seems lost for words, just gasping, broad chest heaving.

He remains wordless as Sylvain thumbs at the head of his cock which is already starting to leak and spreads the liquid down to smooth his grip. Sylvain cruelly slows his pace until Dimitri lets out a needy little whine. “Use your words, Dimitri.”

“Hnn, it feels...hot. Tight.” Dimitri’s cheeks are blazing. He can barely force the words out. He places his free hand gently on Sylvain’s face and strokes his cheek. “It’s so good, Sylvain, you are - truly incredible.”

Sylvain’s jaw drops. _Good_ . Not just good, _Incredible_ . He feels a whirling vertigo, flushing surely to the tips of his ears. To distract Dimitri from his overwhelmed reaction, he kisses his neck again and picks back up his pace. Dimitri’s cock swells in response until Sylvain can’t fully manage to wrap his fingers around the base, and oh, Sylvain is practically _drooling_ with want. He has to let it out, he has to tell Dimitri at least a margin of how much he wants him, as much as he knows this isn’t about him at all. He starts to pump Dimitri as hard as he can in a fast tight rhythm and, though he knows it’s a mistake, leans in to whisper in his ear.

“You’re gorgeous like this. You’re so big, I want you inside me more than anything.”  
Dimitri moans in response and his cock twitches in Sylvain’s grip. He thrusts up into Sylvain’s hand and Sylvain has to straddle him to push his hips down. His own forgotten cock throbs and rubs painfully against the cloth of his pants. _Not yet, come on, keep it together,_ he thinks to his traitorous body. He’ll take care of himself when he’s done with Dimitri. Who, by the way, is jerking in Sylvain’s grip and letting out the sweetest little gasps. Sylvain is sure he’s close. He kisses him deeply, speeding up his pace, and Dimitri moans into his mouth.

“Yeah, you like that? You want to fill me up too? Pin me down and fuck me ’til I scream?”

He can watch Dimitri’s face as he at last lets go from this close, and he thinks _yes,_ and _finally,_ and _ouch_. Wait. There’s a resounding snap and pain blooms from their conjoined hands. Sylvain yelps and pulls away instinctively, clutching his hand to his chest. His wrist and several fingers are hanging limp. “Fuck, shit, owww,” he moans, decidedly less sexy than earlier.

“Oh goddess, I am so sorry, oh no, Sylvain...” Dimitri’s hands flutter uselessly around him, clearly afraid to touch him again. “We need to get you to the infirmary at once. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - I’m sorry.” He hangs his head, looking absolutely despondent, and through the pain, Sylvain notices him softening rapidly. He didn’t finish. 

“Fuck!” Sylvain says again, in frustration this time. Dimitri confuses it for more pain and his eye wells up with guilty tears. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, helplessly, and buries his face in his hands.

Sylvain wants to speak but he’s trying to manage being more turned on than he has in his entire life and a broken - he takes stock - wrist and three fingers. He takes a moment to just breathe but pats Dimitri gently with his good hand. Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice, he just hangs his head further, breathing faster, verging on hyperventilating.

Oh boy. Sylvain knows how he can get. “Hey, Dimitri, it’s okay, it was an accident. I’ll be okay.” He pulls himself over to Dimitri by wrapping his good arm around his waist and tucking himself into his side.

Dimitri still won’t look at him. “It wasn’t - I knew what could happen if I - I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I knew what could happen too, you know, I do in fact know you pretty well. I wanted to do it and goddess knows I enjoyed it, up until now. Next time we’ll be more careful, okay?”

That shocks away Dimitri’s look of growing despair. “You would - do this again? For me?”

“Oh, my sweet Dimitri, anything for you.”

Tears do well up, at that. “I truly do not deserve you.”

“Shush, none of that. Come on, you know that’s not true. Carry me to the infirmary, oh my knight in shining armor? A dastardly villain just injured me severely and I can't walk." He flutters his eyelashes, regretting that neither of them ever had any talent in faith.

Dimitri makes an impressive attempt at a laugh. "Yes, all right. I suppose it is the least I can do." He scoops Sylvain up as though he weighs nothing at all, and Sylvain has to fight not to react to something so incredibly hot, even through the pain. 

Looking up at Dimitri's worried face while being carried like a sack of feathers through the castle halls, Sylvain realizes he is in deep, deep trouble.


	2. A leg up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for a verbal description of a physically rough sexual fantasy involving Felix, if you want to skip it it's one paragraph near the end that starts with “Of course. I should have known.”  
> Infinite thanks to my beta [AMyosotis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMyosotis), check out their Homestuck fic if you want to Cry

He misses Sylvain. Not just because he didn’t think it was physically possible to feel as good as he felt that night, and not simply because he couldn’t manage to replicate the feeling alone. Oh he’s tried, by the Goddess has he tried, working himself frantically until he chafes night after night, the memory of his time with Sylvain enough to excite him easily enough. But the end of the night always rushes in against his will, or some terrible memory rises up and freezes him unfinished. On the bad nights the voices drown out all other thoughts, or he takes a look at himself—sad, pathetic, frantic for pleasure he doesn’t deserve after the lives he’s destroyed—and falls entirely out of the mood. It’s nothing like it was with Sylvain, with his impossibly gentle hands and terribly devious tongue, taking him completely undone with the slightest touches to his lips, his thighs, his chest. And his words… the pictures he painted in Dimitri’s head, the sounds he made… Dimitri tries, he really tries, to touch himself like that, and conjure sounds like that, but he feels ridiculous and stilted. It’s hell. Knowing how good he has the potential to feel, and being entirely unable to bring himself at all close to it is simply hellish. 

He always knew that Sylvain was beautiful, but he never imagined himself as the type of person to _do_ anything about it, neither deserving nor capable of affection. He never desired anything romantic because he never knew he _could_ desire it. Now… now, Dimitri _wants_ , wants so powerfully he’s burning up in desperation. During trade meetings, feasts, tournaments, all he can think of is their night together, and it takes all his energy to suppress the physical reaction and the desire to find Sylvain and finish what they started. To reiterate: absolute hell.

But it’s only slightly different from his typical hell, nights still miserable just for more reasons, and it’s not why he misses Sylvain. He would gladly give up the memory of their night entirely if it meant regaining his dear friend. Sylvain has been avoiding Dimitri entirely for weeks, stories of days spent in taverns and evenings in brothels trickling to his ears through rumors hopefully exaggerated. Dimitri can’t blame him, really. He behaved so barbarously, Sylvain is surely disgusted with him, even if he tried to deny it at the time. He remembers every filthy thing he said and did even before he hurt his friend, and curls up in shame. Sylvain would never want to be with a monster like him. But, hopefully, they can restore their friendship. It has certainly survived Dimitri’s worst. Dimitri has come to rely on Sylvain’s soothing presence, both personally and politically. Meetings are much more fraught with nobody to cut the tension with a clever quip or joke. Sylvain’s political advice is invaluable as well; he regularly points out flaws in Faerghus’s governmental structure that Dimitri himself had never realized, and often comes to him with thoughtful solutions. Dimitri and his friends are more tense, and their days are more dull, without Sylvain’s balming and invaluable presence.

So when Sylvain knocks on his door one night, two weeks past their tryst, Dimitri’s heart sings.

But after one look at his face, his spirits sink. He’s flushed and his eyes are ringed with dark bags. Has he been sleeping? Is he sick?

“Sylvain! I mean—apologies for the outburst—Sylvain, hello. Are you well?” He doesn’t know how this is supposed to go, but he puts on the act of king every day, he can fake normalcy better than anyone when he cares to. “Please, come in.” He pulls out two chairs.

“Hey, Dimitri.” Sylvain sits, crosses his hands in his lap, then uncrosses them, then twists a strand of hair around his finger, then gets the hair caught and rips it free with a wince, then hides the offending hand behind his head sheepishly.

Dimitri realizes he has been staring.

“Allow me to apologize—”

“Listen, I’m sorry—”

They pause awkwardly.

“Pardon, please continue—”

“Uh, my bad, you first—”

They sit in silence.

Okay, if Sylvain is not going to speak first, Dimitri will have to. He feels ridiculous.

“I want to apologize, please. I am truly sorry for hurting you.”

“What, that? Man Dimitri, is that why you look so upset?” Sylvain holds out his healed hand, flexing his fingers. “Look, good as new. Don’t worry about it, I honestly forgot. It was an accident, and I’ve had worse pretty much my whole life. _I’m_ the one who should be sorry. I...made things weird by avoiding you. I had some shit to sort out, but I’m done, and I still want to help you out. I care about you—uh, that is, as a friend, obviously. You deserve to feel good, and you don’t deserve my emotional bullshit, so let’s try again, if you’re into it. Then we can go back to how things were before and never talk about this again.” He chuckles awkwardly, and smiles hesitantly, looking hopefully up at Dimitri.

Dimitri can tell that Sylvain is not telling him everything, but it’s so hard to pry through that cheery blithe exterior, even for the socially aware, which Dimitri certainly is not.

“I—well—thank you, for explaining that. I care about you as well. But I do not entirely understand. What were you trying to sort out? Why were you avoiding me, if you’re not averse to trying again?” At Sylvain’s increasingly shuttered face, he adds, “please do not misunderstand me. I am glad you also want to try again, you haven't the slightest idea how glad, but are you sure you don’t want to talk more about this?”

Sylvain eyes him contemplatively.

“How about this? We can talk, or I can suck you off until you come on my face.”

Dimitri’s blood instantly diverts entirely from his brain. He is only a man.

“I, um, yes, okay, yes, that one. The latter one. Um, please.”

Sylvain is shoving Dimitri against the wall as soon as he stutters out a “yes”. He kisses him, long and deep, leaving Dimitri breathless and panting as Sylvain practically dives down his body, falling to his knees without preamble. Dimitri’s breath is still caught in his throat from that promise. He tries to remember how to breathe properly as Sylvain undoes the ties on his pants. When he takes Dimitri into his mouth, the whole world starts spinning. He’s enveloped by a tight, wet heat. Sylvain hollows his cheeks and swallows around him, covering his teeth with his lips. He purses his lips tight and slides up Dimitri’s length until just the tip is inside of him, and he tongues at his slit teasingly. It takes him half a minute before Dimitri is harder than he has ever felt in his entire life.

“Ohh, oh—Syl—Sylvain, goddess above.” Dimitri clings to the shelf above his head desperately. It takes everything he has to hold back his hips from thrusting hard into Sylvain’s open, eager mouth. He is not practiced in this type of control, though, and he jerks forward slightly. He can feel Sylvain gagging on him, and frantically pulls back. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Sylvain quickly shakes his head, gasping. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he croaks. “That was the hottest fucking thing, I can’t believe you.” He sinks back onto Dimitri and takes his full length again. Dimitri can feel his tip rubbing against the back of Sylvain’s throat and groans, unable to hold back his pleasure. Sylvain, busy swallowing around Dimitri, manages to simultaneously take Dimitri’s hand and twist it into his beautiful crimson hair. He pulls at Dimitri’s wrist gently, possibly trying to hint that he can pull his hair or move his head how he wants him? But the thought of hurting Sylvain again is unbearable, and Dimitri wants him to feel cherished and safe, not forced or in pain. He gently strokes Sylvain’s hair instead, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and massaging his scalp. He rests his hand on his cheek—and that in itself is unbelievably arousing, as he can feel _himself_ inside Sylvain’s mouth, Seiros.

“So sweet, you’re wonderful, so good for me,” he manages breathlessly. It’s not half that which he wishes to express but his mind is not entirely working. It seems to work, though, as Sylvain freezes, wide eyes meeting Dimitri’s in a shocked stare. He groans around Dimitri, sending vibrations throughout his body, and Dimitri twitches in response. His hips push in just a little deeper, and Sylvain chases them as they withdraw, taking Dimitri to the hilt. He starts bobbing up and down his length in earnest. Dimitri can’t look away; he cuts such a gorgeous sight, lips stretched wide around him and eyes fluttered shut. He gasps with pleasure and feels an answering moan around him.

The longer they go on, the less Dimitri can hold back his horrifically embarrassing sounds. But every groan grants him an answering one from Sylvain, and a faster pace, until he feels like he’s—he’s—“Close, I think I’m close, oh please, Sylvain, it feels so—I need—help me—” The words rush out of him in a stream of less and less coherent babble. He probably would be embarrassed if he had the presence of mind to even register what nonsense was coming out of his mouth. He feels a tight heat building up inside him, and knows this has to be it, finally, he is almost there...

But Sylvain is slowing down, and looking inexplicably upset. His face halts Dimitri’s frantic rush of pleasure, and his thoughts start to creep back in. Has he done something wrong? Has his loss of control reminded Sylvain of the horrific monster within him?

Eventually Sylvain pulls off of him, panting heavily, his expression smoothed neutral again. 

“I need a breather,” he manages, voice totally wrecked. “You’re way too big for me, my jaw hurts like hell. It’ll be better for you if we drag this out a little longer, anyway.” The sight of him, swollen wet lips and teary eyes, combined with his hoarse rasp, is enough to wipe Dimitri’s earlier concern completely from his mind. He feels overwhelmed; incredible. He wants to reciprocate, to make Sylvain feel even slightly as good as he does.

“I want—I want to do that for you,” he says. He roves his gaze down Sylvain’s disarrayed panting form to where he’s clearly straining his breeches with arousal, mitigating a wave of desire stronger than anything he has ever felt before… but Sylvain just looks confused.

“What? No, Dimitri, this is supposed to be about you. I couldn’t possibly ask that of you, even if you weren’t my king” 

Why wouldn’t Sylvain want him? Does he think Dimitri wouldn’t be good? He supposes that’s fair, given his complete lack of experience, but he knows he can’t hide the disappointment on his face. It’s worth one more try. “But I’d like… I’d like for you to enjoy this, too.”

A blush spreads across Sylvain’s cheeks and he averts his gaze. His seeming shyness only lasts for a second, however, before he banishes his flush with a leer.

“Well, I can think of a few things we’d both enjoy. I have to admit, I’ve been dreaming about fucking you.” He waggles his eyebrows and winks, the way Dimitri has seen him do when he’s trying to fluster a woman. But the idea of what they might do together… it washes any other thoughts from his mind. He has been dreaming about it, as well.

“I’d like that.” He spills the words out in a rush in his haste to respond, brain a little short-circuited but immensely glad that Sylvain brought up what he so desperately wants.

Sylvain looks thunderstruck at his own idea. “Wait, for real? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I—I’ve thought about it as well. You were simply entrancing the other night, it has been impossible for me not to dwell on it.”

Sylvain won’t look at him. “You don’t mind your first time being with me?” he asks the floor. “You don’t want it to be special, you big romantic sap?”

“It...of course it will be special. With you.” He knows his flush is to the tips of his ears now, but at least now an answering one spreads across Sylvain’s shocked face.

“Oh my goddess, okay, hold on, let me grab—” he fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a vial of oil. 

“Here, let’s, uh—on the bed.” He fumbles with his boots while hopping over to sit on Dimitri’s mattress and starts to shed his clothes hurriedly.

Dimitri follows in no less of a flustered rush, a little thunderstruck that this is actually happening. His head is still spinning, trying to catch up to what they were just doing, as he unbuttons his shirt.

He freezes, clothes half-off, as Sylvain lies back at the head of the bed and spreads his legs. He can do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, as Sylvain slicks up his hand and rubs at his entrance. He sinks a finger in, slowly, tantalizingly, clearly putting on a show. “You’ve—don’t let this get to your head—you’ve got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, I’m going to need some time to get ready or you’ll split me in two.” He sounds so casual, voice only a little strained, as though he’s chatting in the training yard and not working himself open for Dimitri to…to…penetrate him. Heavenly saints.

Dimitri blinks and gapes at him, wordless. For a minute, all he can do is watch, enraptured, as Sylvain quickly adds a second finger, then a third with a low groan. Their softer lifestyle since the war has added a slight layer of padding to his broad arms and firm abs, and Dimitri can’t help but admire the view for a minute. Finally he gathers himself and manages, “Not that—it’s not to say I am not enjoying watching you, but I imagined this the other way around. If, that is, I mean, if you are amenable to the concept.”

Sylvain gapes at him, hand frozen where it had been pumping inside himself. “Sothis’s _tits_ , Dimitri, are you sure?”

“I am intrigued by the idea certainly, but I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do. I am sure you are aware of this but I am—I am a tad nervous. I would prefer it if you took the lead.” As Sylvain still looks a little shocked, he continues, “I worry about letting myself go and hurting you again unwittingly. I’m not sure if I can relax, with that thought in the back of my mind.” The shame—along with the constant, whispering self-loathing, and the deep-seated guilt that are all always rooted in the back of his mind—start to creep in again. He’s terrified of becoming what he once was, of letting the ever-present monster he’s managed to keep down for a year loose once more.

Sylvain works his hand free and sits up, smiling fondly. “Got it, sure, I mean I’m absolutely down either way. And to be honest, as much as I trust you not to, I wouldn’t mind if you hurt me a little. I’d actually be really into it.” After one look at what is surely shock and upset on Dimitri’s face, he hastily adds, “but you don’t have to, it’s okay, never mind! Forget that. Here, come on, lie down.”

Dimitri obeys, with a relatively clear idea of the mechanics of what is to happen next. He’s seen and heard enough in the army barracks and soldiers’ tents during the war to know what Sylvain intends to do, and his excitement is tempered with slight nerves. 

Sylvain takes one look at his tense face and stretches out at his side to kiss him languidly. This is fast becoming comfortingly familiar the more they do it. Dimitri sighs happily into his mouth and dares to roll one of Sylvain’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

Sylvain gasps open-mouthed into him, and straddles Dimitri’s leg, briefly rutting against his thigh. A wave of pleasure and satisfaction crashes through Dimitri at finally giving back a little of the brilliant sensations Sylvain has made him feel. Sylvain feels hot and wet and thick against Dimitri’s skin, and the thought of that length pushing inside him is dizzying. All too quickly, however, he seems to regain control of himself and moves away to settle in between his legs, gently easing his thighs apart.

“Stop me whenever you want,” he reminds Dimitri, and waits for a nod before coating his fingers once more with the oil.

The first intrusion is—strange, difficult, like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed. It’s not unpleasant, just a slight stretch, though when Sylvain pulls his finger _out_ it’s even more foreign. He pumps it in and out a few times, going slightly deeper each time, until Dimitri’s a little more acclimated to the sensation. He feels incredibly tense and vulnerable.

“Hey, you okay?” Sylvain freezes inside him. “You’re breathing weird, man, take it easy, want me to stop?”

“No!” Dimitri almost shouts, then blushes. “Don’t stop,” he adds, quietly. “But… could you kiss me?”

A soft smile spreads across Sylvain’s face. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” He leans forward and captures Dimitri’s lips with his own. As they kiss, slowly and shallowly, he continues moving inside him, in and out, until Dimitri’s breathing stabilizes. He pulls entirely out and Dimitri finds himself feeling…empty, bereft. A small disappointed noise escapes his mouth and Sylvain’s breath hitches before he feels two fingers pressed against him, a silent question. He nods.

The pressure is more intense, but he feels full and connected to Sylvain like this. He likes the slide back and forth more this time, feeling laid bare and cared for as Sylvain slowly, slowly stretches him open. It’s starting to feel good—still strange, still foreign, but pleasantly so, a slow and sweet drag against his sensitive walls. He sighs against Sylvain’s mouth and feels his lips turn up in a satisfied smile.

Then he pushes in even deeper and curls his fingers, and an electric wave of ecstasy shoots through Dimitri’s whole body. “Hah, it, oh, again, please,” he sputters out, back arching off the bed instinctively, not sure if he’s trying to get closer or further to that source of overwhelming bliss.

Sylvain grins, pleased. “Anything for you.” He thrusts harder, pushing deeper and brushing up against that spot tantalizingly repeatedly. He simultaneously scissors Dimitri open wider on the next thrust and Dimitri lets out a wanton moan at the thought of being stretched out even further for Sylvain’s pleasure.

“I want more, I want you now, please,” he begs in a rush. He can’t hold it back, he needs Sylvain inside him so intensely he wants to cry.

Judging by his hungry expression, Sylvain feels the same. He presses Dimitri’s knee to his chest, stretching him out and baring him in an overwhelmingly vulnerable position.

He lines up the head of his member with his hand and braces himself with the other against Dimitri’s bent knee. Then he pushes in, shallow, opening Dimitri with the ridged thick head. Even after all their preparation, Sylvain is going agonizingly slowly and panting heavily as he does, straining with effort.

“Holy shit, Dimitri, y-you’re so tight, fuck, are you like okay? Doesn’t this hurt? Do—ahh, fuck—you want to prep a little more?”

Dimitri has gone completely boneless and can barely form a coherent thought. He shudders as Sylvain presses farther into him, and goes limp everywhere but where they’re joined. He feels like he’s floating. He barely registers what he’s saying. Finally he breathes out a response after 

Sylvain stops moving.

“A-ahh, yes, keep going.”

Sylvain starts to move in and out in short, shallow thrusts.

He does enjoy it, it feels incredible, but the sensation is nothing compared to the look on Sylvain’s face. His mouth is hanging open in an O, his wide eyes are glazed over, and his breath is punched out of him in short pants. It’s mesmerizing. It’s exactly what Dimitri wanted, to see him lose himself with pleasure. His own—he blushes even to think the word— _dick_ throbs in response, and he feels a little like he’s on fire.

“I—gods, I—”

Before he can get a full sentence out, Sylvain hits that spot again, and again, repeatedly angling for it until Dimitri’s almost sobbing with pleasure. He squirms, crying out at the intensity, so much more raw and powerful with a wider surface thrusting hard against it. A soft keening sounds through the room and he’s confused at first until he realizes it’s coming from him. He can’t think, he scrabbles for something to hold onto and digs his grip into Sylvain’s strong muscled shoulders. 

“Please—please,” he finally manages, not even sure what he’s asking for. It’s just so _much_ , so overwhelmingly good, he doesn’t know what to do.

But then Sylvain changes his angle a little and slows down, panting heavily, and the only thing worse than constantly hitting his prostate is apparently _not_ hitting it. It’s still good, but Dimitri, wound up and tense and losing his mind, needs more. He pulls both legs back, knees folded fully to his shoulders, and it helps a little but it’s awkward and uncomfortable and still not _enough_. He’s losing his mind with pleasure. Just brushing up against it every few thrusts is driving him wild, he needs more. He doesn’t even think before effortlessly flipping Sylvain and pinning his wrists to the bed with one hand, finally able to ride him at the angle he needs. His other hand grasps for another purchase on his body and settles on his neck, not squeezing, just holding him lightly, gasping.

Sylvain cries out and writhes in his grip. Thinking he’s trying to get away, Dimitri quickly lets go of him, but he shakes his head frantically. “No, I want you to hold me down, please, harder.” He throbs inside Dimitri and they slide together smoother and faster.

Dimitri replaces his hands where they were. He holds Sylvain’s wrists a little harder but leaves the hand on his neck gentle, unable to bear squeezing there. Sylvain whimpers. His mouth lolls open and his eyes have gone glassy. Dimitri groans at the sight and drives himself harder and deeper down onto Sylvain, angling himself perfectly, and his eye flutters shut.

“My dear, you are—this is—this is bliss. I adore you. So lovely, so good.”

His eye is still shut but he can hear Sylvain’s embarrassed groan. “You’re so…hah…adorably corny, you sap. Is this how Felix feels talking to you? I get why he’s so angry about being so into you, you’re embarrassingly sincere.”

Dimitri gasps and tenses around Sylvain, his hand squeezing his neck just slightly before he regains control. Sylvain smirks.

“Oh yeah, liked that, did you? Like thinking about Felix‘s chronic lifelong obsession with you? If you talked like this to him, all sincere and chivalrous, I think he’d explode. And then probably hop on your cock faster than you can blink. He’s such a sucker for you. He’s practically been begging you to fuck him for years.”

“What are you—oh, Sylvain, oh—what are you saying?” He tries to focus but he’s so overwhelmed at the thought of taking Felix. Dimitri has never dared to fantasize about any sexual situation like this and the thought brings him so close to finally letting go. He groans.

“Of course. I should have known.” Sylvain’s eyes shutter for some reason Dimitri can't begin to tangle out. “You want him to be here now, don’t you? You’ve wanted to fuck him for years, and you know he wants the same, he’s obsessed with you. Or would you want to share him, my generous king? Want for us to take him at the same time, you from behind while I fuck his mouth? He’d probably fight us at first, as much as he’d want it, he’s such a stubborn little thing isn’t he? But it wouldn’t take much for you to pin him down and tear his clothes off and bend him over a bench for me. He’d protest at first but he’d already be hard, and soon he’d be begging for your cock. You’d only give it to him after making him service me, though, then you’d fuck him ’til his tears mixed with my cum on his face, and the whole time he’d be pleading for more.”

He doesn’t want to hurt Felix, would never even dream of doing so, and he knows Sylvain wouldn’t either. Sylvain’s description is equally upsetting and dizzying, and Dimitri doesn’t know how he feels. Sylvain jerks his hips up while Dimitri has stilled above him and palms his pec. A long, low moan escapes Dimitri’s mouth without his permission. He lets loose a drop of pre-cum, and Sylvain’s mouth twists. He looks so sad, now, with a twisted grimace on his face, and he has stilled completely. Something is wrong. 

“Sylvain, what is going on? Are you okay?” Dimitri slides off of him and settles at his side. He takes a minute to clear his head and steady his breathing, trying to think straight. He starts to realize that maybe desperately plowing ahead before talking about things was a mistake. However, he does not intend to make that mistake again.

Sylvain turns away and buries his face in the bedsheets.

Confused, and unsure how to fix this, Dimitri hesitantly places a hand in Sylvain’s hair. When he doesn’t respond but doesn’t pull away, Dimitri starts to stroke it gently. He sits silently for a few minutes, hoping he isn’t making this worse. Sylvain is still silent but his tension relaxes slightly.

“You need to tell me how you feel, and express seriously when you’re upset and why,” Dimitri finally says, feeling simultaneously very hypocritical and very much like he’s explaining basic manners to a small child. “I cannot read your mind, and I would not enjoy anything if _you_ weren’t enjoying it as well. You seemed to be enjoying things until just now, am I wrong? What happened?”

Sylvain curls in on himself.

“I know how you feel about Felix. I know I don’t hold a candle to him. You’ve been obsessed with each other your whole lives. Of course you’re in love with him, of course I’m a poor substitute. He’s honest, loyal, steadfast, and beautiful, I get it. And I’m fine with that, I really am, I know you’ll end up with him one day and be disgustingly happy and that’s—that’s fine. This was supposed to be something I could offer you that he can’t, at least not yet. I know you wouldn’t want anything more from the likes of me. It’s the only thing I can offer anyone, the only thing I’m good at, the only thing people want me for aside from my crest. And usually I’m okay with that, I really am, but I guess it’s different with you. Sorry.”

As upsetting and untrue as most of that is to hear, Dimitri needs to understand more. He feels guilty for pushing Sylvain, but he’s not sure when he’ll get this level of honesty and openness from his friend again.

“Is that why you brought him up? Because you think I am using you as a substitute for him?”

“I brought him up to—well, to remind myself what this really is between us. You’re too sweet, Dimitri, you have to know you’re achingly sincere and chivalrous to people who don’t deserve it, and it hurts to have you treat me so kindly. I had to distract you—and—and distract myself, with what I always use, dirty fantasies and rough sex. I did like it, of course I enjoyed it, otherwise it wouldn’t work as a distraction, but… I don’t like _myself_ most of the time, and sex is the only thing that works to help me temporarily forget that. It just didn't work tonight.”

Dimitri tries to be gentle. He moves his hand to Sylvain’s shoulders, rubbing them rhythmically. “I am certainly no stranger to repressing upsetting feelings until I no longer physically can. I know more than most that it will only work up until a point, however, and you seem to have hit that point.”

Sylvain flinches and pushes his hand away, but finally sits up and faces him, glaring.

“Listen Dimitri, you don’t like me, I know you don’t, and this is just a reminder of what I can’t have and don’t deserve. Honestly, what is there to like about me? Especially when Felix is with you day in and day out, and so in love with you, and you’re mending your relationship which is wonderful but, well, that’s the end for me. Nights like this are all I could ever have, so don’t try to get me to stop the only thing that makes me feel like a human being.”

That is entirely untrue and unfair. He is starting to feel more than a little frustrated. “Sylvain, of course I _like_ you, I will not even dignify that with further response. My relationship with Felix is—it is complicated, but it is nothing like what you describe. Also, is it not hypocritical of you to envy what you think we have when the two of you have your own complicated history? I know how you feel about him, as well, you could hardly hide it from me after decades together.”

Sylvain is shaking. He grabs a folded blanket at the end of the bed and wraps it around himself.

“I guess that was unfair. I’m not thinking straight. It’s been kind of a whirlwind of a night, huh?” He chuckles, but there is no mirth in the sound.

“It certainly has been.” Dimitri can think of no better way to describe it.

“Still, I don’t want it to end. I don’t want you to come. Once you do, you’ll realize you’re actually capable of it by yourself and you won’t need me anymore. I want to drag this out just a little longer. As soon as you finish here we’re done, and probably our friendship is shot too, and I just—I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, then, I will not finish tonight. Though I swear I will still desire you even if I do. But I want you to feel comfortable. I should not have agreed to this in the first place tonight. I knew you were upset, and I was selfish, and for that I apologize. I love you, I always have, with or without this aspect of our relationship. And I will do whatever you need to convince you that I am telling you the truth.”

With a shock, he realizes Sylvain’s eyes are shining with tears. He sniffles quietly. “Okay.”

Dimitri smiles. “Will you stay with me tonight? Just to sleep. Please.”

Sylvain nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’d really like that. Thanks.”

A wave of relief floods through Dimitri. He has not completely ruined things if Sylvain is staying. He blows out the lamp, and settles into the sheets, and holds out his arms. Thankfully, Sylvain almost instantly buries himself in Dimitri’s embrace. Dimitri presses a kiss to the top of his head and they fall asleep, intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: i wanna write some silly carefree dimivain where they can both cut loose & relax  
> Sylvain: good luck! Im extremely depressed & hypersexual in response to trauma and it can get Ugly  
> Dimitri: apologies, but i am physically incapable of the act referred to as “relaxation”
> 
> ik this is rushed & isn’t really polished but i’ve been going Thru It and i crave that validation, i have better plans for the last chapter though so hang in there


	3. An assist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dimitri’s got a service kink & sylvain has a praise kink sorry i don’t make the rules!!

Sylvain is tired of waiting. It’s been months since his last night with Dimitri, months since he admitted his feelings in the most shameful way possible, months since he’s had sex, and months of this new, sweet, secret relationship. Usually he thinks his life is too good to be true, and is on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nobody has ever put this much effort into Sylvain before, both because he’s not worth it and because he does everything in his power to convince people of that fact.

But Dimitri’s different. Dimitri stopped. They talked, when he still hadn’t come, when Sylvain was making him feel better than he had probably ever felt in his entire life, and he still stopped. To ask about Sylvain’s feelings, of all things. As though he cared.

Thinking back on all the horrifically embarrassing things he admitted to his friend, Sylvain’s suddenly achingly glad Dimitri is busy with trade negotiations for the week. It’s one of those days where Sylvain isn’t sure he can ever manage to look his king in the eye again. He can’t believe the things he said, and is even more horrified at the things he’s _thinking_ these days. Sylvain is turning into a lovestruck teenager. He’s thinking about Dimitri all the time, and not just his huge cock or tight hole or beautiful, desperate face when he was close to finishing above Sylvain. He’s thinking about Dimitri’s _feelings_ , his _smile_ , his incredible generosity and selflessness, the way he held Sylvain through the night... it’s downright embarrassing. In a complete one-eighty from his typical fuck-ups, Sylvain managed to turn what was supposed to be a couple of fun nights into something much more significant than Dimitri had asked of him.

He couldn’t even pretend that their first night didn’t mean more to him than he’d ever intended it to. There was no point trying to hide it after his cringeworthy breakdown, and even beforehand, he’d never been able to lie to Dimitri without feeling entirely too guilty. Dimitri is just too trusting and loving with his friends; it would feel like kicking a puppy.

So Sylvain admitted to his emotions because he could do nothing else. And Dimitri responded by _courting_ him, of course he did. It’s embarrassing how much Sylvain loves it. He knows Dimitri can’t lie worth a damn so he actually believes in the love Dimitri is constantly proclaiming. Sometimes he even thinks that he deserves it; Dimitri is just so earnest and sincere about it. They’ve also, incredibly, discussed inviting Felix into whatever they’re building together, one day, once they’ve become more used to their new relationship.

But while Dimitri was more accepting and receptive than Sylvain could ever have expected, it’s still hard to accept what he’s offering. It involves a lot of days like this one, where Sylvain is half-ready to pack a bag and fuck off to another country to avoid the shame that bubbles up with his memories of every vulnerablility he so willingly offered up to Dimitri. He’s almost cheated on Dimitri with a dozen different people, not because he wants to but because of a sick twisted voice inside him, insisting _you don’t deserve this_ and _you might as well show him what you are now before you drag him further into this lost cause_. He wants to listen half the time, anything to drown out the chants of _you’re poison, poison, poison,_ and the only way he’s ever known how to do that is with sex.

Unfortunately, sex is the one thing Dimitri has unequivocally denied him since their last time. They’ve been “taking it slow”. Dimitri insists he needs to show Sylvain his value outside of sex, that his companionship means so much more to him than any physical acts could. Sylvain is even starting to believe him, sometimes, a little. It’s... nice. It’s good. They’ve been spending nights together—just sleeping beside each other; comforting each other through nightmares; cuddling; and it’s like nothing Sylvain has ever thought he deserved or was even capable of feeling before. He loves it, he really does.

But he’s also going _absolutely_ _insane_. He wants Dimitri so desperately that he ends up in physical pain most nights from how hard he is. Dimitri’s damned chivalry and nobility have prevented them from doing anything more than kissing for months, because he feels so guilty about how the last time went, even though it was Sylvain’s goddess-damned fault! But Dimitri insists that he “took advantage of Sylvain in a vulnerable state,” even though Sylvain had waltzed into his room practically _begging_ to be fucked. _And_ , Dimitri wakes up at the slightest shift, so Sylvain can’t even guiltily slink into a bathroom to jerk off at night.

The most frustrating thing is that he can tell Dimitri wants him too. Dimitri, for all his tact and diplomacy, is a terrible liar. The looks, the blushes, the clear reactions to Sylvain’s body when they kiss... not to mention he apparently still can’t masturbate, so he doesn’t even have the outlet Sylvain has been using on their rare nights apart. Sylvain can’t imagine the tension. He’d be impressed if he weren’t so frustrated.

So he concocts a plan to tease Dimitri into losing his control. Not a complicated one—essentially he’s just going to work harder than usual at seducing someone. He has _tactics_. Granted, the tactics are incredibly simple, but it really shouldn’t take much to push Dimitri over the edge. It’s not Sylvain’s proudest moment, coming up with the scheme, but he’s honestly desperate.

Dimitri must also be a little desperate, because it is surprisingly easy to get him worked up. The first time Sylvain tries slowly sliding a spoon of sherbert in and out of his mouth, moaning decadently and swirling his tongue deftly around the tip, Dimitri goes beet-red. He watches Sylvain, eye wide, frozen, for a beautifully tense second. Then he abruptly stands up and shoves his chair back, forgetting his strength and accidentally upending the entire table.

Crying with laughter kind of kills the mood for Sylvain, and he decides Dimitri deserves a break after that, so he waits until the next day to try anything else.

He challenges Dimitri to a spar during lunch. Sweet, trusting, foolish Dimitri doesn’t even consider if he has an ulterior motive, eagerly accepting instantly. He’s always excited for a break from sitting in his stuffy office all day, but never seeks one out for himself, duty-bound as he is. They find a spare half-hour in the evening to slip away into the castle’s training grounds. During warm-up stretches, Sylvain surreptitiously pulls off his shirt. He waits for Dimitri to look at him and then makes sure to emphasize the flex in his biceps as he slowly and dramatically stretches his arms over his head. He knows Dimitri has a thing for the muscles in his upper arms, even padded with extra fat as they have been since the war. That’s a slight insecurity of his, the weight he’s put on in the last few years of peace, but it’s hard to remember why when Dimitri’s breath catches at the sight of him.

“I-I, um, did you have a particular weapon in mind?” Dimitri doesn’t seem to realize his mouth is still hanging open.

“I was thinking we’d just grapple, actually,” Sylvain casually replies. He doesn’t miss the way Dimitri’s eye keeps darting down his body, and at the fierce look in it, it’s Sylvain’s turn to blush. He tries not to suck in his stomach, fidgeting. It takes everything he has not to say _hey, my eyes are up here,_ because he knows Dimitri would stop, and as embarrassing as this is, desire has never been so plain and open on Dimitri’s face and Sylvain wouldn’t shutter that for anything.  
Dimitri nods, stilted, and shifts into a ready stance.

For a while they just warm up, running through drills that the Professor used to put them through until they’re a little less rusty. Sylvain has never been one for fighting, but he sure loves the look of intense concentration and joy on Dimitri’s face. It’s rare to see his king so relaxed, and he makes a note to exercise with Dimitri more often and with fewer ulterior motives in the future.

But as they continue their spar, Sylvain can’t stop looking at the wild grin on Dimitri’s face. He has so few opportunities these days to just cut loose, and it’s been a stressful week for him, and he’s clearly having fun...

His goal is to get Dimitri wound up with little things over time, anyway, and Dimitri’s enjoying himself so much. He had a plan that ended with the two of them tangled together on the ground, Sylvain straddling Dimitri’s hips and grinding into him. The thought of Dimitri bucking up in response, gasping, panting his name and hardening against him, almost makes Sylvain reconsider scrapping it.

But then Dimitri shakes his hair out of his eyes and actually _laughs_ , bright and happy, and Sylvain would hang the moon in the sky for him. Sylvain smiles ruefully in return and proceeds to get his ass handed to him. He doesn’t really mind.  
What almost gets Dimitri is spooning that night. Sylvain genuinely loves lying in bed cuddling, and he’s loathe to pervert it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He starts off subtle, just stretching and rubbing back against Dimitri’s crotch in a way that could be an accident. Dimitri’s breath hitches against his back. He keeps up the fidgeting until Dimitri starts to stiffen against his ass.

Finally Dimitri snaps. He flips off of his side and pins Sylvain to the bed.

Sylvain gasps, delighted, and bares his neck in the way he knows drives Dimitri crazy. But instead of ravaging him, Dimitri eyes him with a frustrated glare.

“I know what you are trying to do, Sylvain,” Dimitri growls in a sexy rumble that has Sylvain swooning already.

He smirks. “Yeah? Is it working?” Dimitri wears this loose white shirt to bed that shows off his expansive chest in a deep V-neck that Sylvain currently has an excellent view down, and he’s not at all in a hurry to change anything about their position.  
Dimitri sighs, closing his eye and taking a deep, steadying breath. “You know it is. But you also know how last time went.”

Ugh. What will it _take_ to get Dimitri to force him down and mount him like an animal?? Is that so much to ask?

“Okay, yeah, but this won’t be like that, I promise. We’ve gone over my stupid insecurities again and again, I just want you to _fuck me_ , Dimitri, come _on_.”

Dimitri blushes. “Not—not tonight. Give me a little time to figure out a plan.”

“A plan? You’re not infiltrating Fort Merceus, Dimitri, you’re putting your cock in my ass, you don’t need a _plan_.”

The blush has spread prettily to the tips of his ears. “As you still are unable to be completely open with me—please, Sylvain, I am not a complete dolt, I can tell when you are not able to communicate your feelings, you are not exactly being subtle in your attempts to fluster me with vulgar language to distract me—I do, in fact, need a plan. And one is starting to come together. Another day will not kill you.” He pecks Sylvain on the cheek, smiling. “Give me just a little more time. I promise you, I will make it worth your while.”

Well, he can’t exactly argue with any of that. “If we must,” Sylvain concedes, smiling now too. As frustrating as it is, he’s still floored by somebody willing to invest this much time and consideration into him. “But I expect some top-notch cuddling as a consolation. You owe me, Blaiddyd.”

Dimitri nods seriously. “That can certainly be arranged.”

It’s really not so bad, waiting one more night. Falling asleep with Dimitri’s arm wrapped securely around his waist and Dimitri’s face nestled in his hair is nothing Sylvain will ever complain about.

Sylvain hasn’t forgotten Dimitri’s promise the next night, but as they sit curled against Dimitri’s headboard kissing lazily, he doesn’t push it. Dimitri will take it further when he’s ready.

As Dimitri strips off both their shirts and sucks on Sylvain’s collarbone, he still doesn’t push it. As Dimitri grinds his thigh between Sylvain’s legs, he tips his head back and moans but doesn’t push it, though it’s _killing_ him.

But when Dimitri takes Sylvain’s wrists in one hand and presses them gently but firmly to the bed above his head, Sylvain can’t help but cry, “please, Dimitri, oh goddess, please.”

Dimitri squeezes his wrists and gently takes one of his nipples between his teeth and Sylvain is going to _die_ if they don’t have sex right now.

“I am going to die if we don’t have sex right now.” Whoops, well, it’s out now.

Dimitri huffs with laughter. “I feel similarly, don’t worry. May I ask you a question first?”

Even asking if he can ask brings a blush to his face. It’s incredibly cute but Sylvain wasn’t kidding about being impatient. “Of course, hurry up,” he says.

Dimitri lifts Sylvain’s wrists and presses them to the headboard. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous but I noticed that—well—that you liked being restrained, last time. But I worry about hurting you again, if I do so myself, so instead, I thought we could, well—is this okay?” He punctuates the question with two long, thin ropes he draws from his shirt pocket. He wraps one slowly around Sylvain’s wrists, looping it through the headpost. He waits for a response, still holding the other one loosely.

Sylvain feels dizzy and overwhelmed. He’s done a little of this sort of thing on the other side, but never has he been the one restrained. It’s—terrifying. It’s wonderful. He can’t speak. He nods. “Yeah, yeah, it’s—it’s good,” he finally manages. He can feel his cheeks heating to a fierce red. It _is_ good, shivery tingles running from his bound wrists across his body, but he can’t believe he _said_ so. As though anyone would care about what he likes. Dimitri is getting off on tying him up, that’s all this is. He wouldn’t usually let something like that out.

Dimitri smiles and wraps the other rope around Sylvain’s chest in a few intricate loops. He ties each end to a separate side of the bed so Sylvain’s entire upper body is pinned in place.

“I’m glad. You look gorgeous like this. Laid out for me.” Dimitri forces the words out through his clear embarrassment, his endearing sincerity seemingly stronger than his shame at his own arousal.

The praise rushes to Sylvain’s head. He whimpers, trying to get his flood of emotions under control. This is _not supposed to be about him_. He’s being selfish, as he always is, making Dimitri focus on taking care of him instead of his own pleasure. He turns his head, trying to avoid Dimitri’s eye.

“You really are so beautiful, and all _mine_ ,” Dimitri emphasizes, more confidently this time. He strokes Sylvain’s hair, then his cheek, and decisively turns Sylvain’s head back to meet his eye. The fondness in his gaze feels dizzyingly good, and Sylvain finds himself squeezing his eyes shut to escape it. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s panting and growing harder by the second. This is too much. Hopefully Dimitri will just get on with it.

“Are you sure you truly want this? You look upset.” Of course Dimitri has to be himself, too caring and kind-hearted as always. He touches the knot and makes as if to free Sylvain’s hands. “I should have asked earlier than now, I apologize, please let me untie you.”

And while it’s a confusing and terrifyingly new sensation, Sylvain instantly knows he’d rather die than be freed right now. Dimitri in control of him, Dimitri taking his pleasure from him... it’s too good to bear, yet too perfect to ever give up.

“Stop!” Sylvain gasps out. “Please. I—I want this. I do.”

Dimitri looks unconvinced but pulls back. “If you truly do... then tell me.”

His brain feels fuzzy looking at the large form above his, completely, terribly, wonderfully in charge of him. “Tell you what?”

“What you want. I will not do anything unless you ask for it.”

“Touch me,” Sylvain says instantly. “Please, Dimitri, touch me.” He’s quickly losing his composure but he doesn’t care. He needs Dimitri’s hands on him, _in_ him, owning him, more than he needs air.

Dimitri smiles fondly, looking a little devious, and places a hand on his cheek again. His thumb strokes Sylvain’s face and he massages his shoulder with his other hand. He brushes across Sylvain’s bare arms and torso, gently tracing along all his scars.

Sylvain’s stomach tenses as Dimitri runs his knuckles across his abs. His hands are going nowhere _near_ where Sylvain wants them, needs them.

“Dimitriii,” he whines.

“Yes?” Dimitri looks perfectly content.

Sylvain doesn’t understand what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. But Dimitri has stopped now, and he remembers he needs to tell him what to do.

“Kiss me.” He likes kissing; he’s used to kissing; he should be able to get his head on straight this way.

But Dimitri grins deviously again, and before Sylvain can blink, he leans forward and kisses his nose.

“You didn’t say where,” he says extremely unhelpfully, and bends to kiss inside the crook of Sylvain’s elbow. Sylvain shivers. Dimitri keeps moving along his body, everywhere he’d touched with his fingers earlier being kissed slowly and carefully, or laved over with his tongue, or bitten ever-so-gently.

“I do not tell you enough how beautiful you are,” Dimitri murmurs against his collarbone. Sylvain tries to muffle his desperate gasp.

“Ahh, lovely,” Dimitri continues, running his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, then his beard. “I love your soft curls, and the sandpaper scrape of your beard against me. Ruggedly handsome, a roguish fantasy.” He traces further down Sylvain’s body with his tongue and fingertips, wringing out another desperate shiver. “And your shoulders... I do not often feel _small_ , Sylvain, but wrapped in your strong thick arms I am—hah—dwarved, safe, and enamored.” He stutters when he presses his leg up to Sylvain’s and must feel Sylvain’s painfully hard cock pressed up against his thigh. For a second Sylvain thinks he is finally about to get some relieving pressure, but Dimitri just shifts his leg out of the way and mouths over his chest.

He kind of hates this. He kind of wants to run out of the room. Instead he can’t even hide his face or cover Dimitri’s mouth. All he can do, with his hands bound and his legs pinned under Dimitri’s bulk, is lie here and take it. He’s panting, and trying to resist begging for more praise because apparently he’s just the world’s biggest masochist and would do just about anything to keep Dimitri talking about everything he likes about him.

“Please, Dimitri... ” Sylvain tries not to let the tears pressing against the back of his eyes spill over, but he can’t help himself straining against his bonds. He needs his hands on Dimitri immediately and momentarily forgets all about the ties making that impossible.

“Ahh, you are so sweet like this. Look at you, trying so hard and being so good for me.” Dimitri’s pupils are blown wide with arousal. He runs his knuckles gently up and down Sylvain’s stomach, barely even touching him. When Sylvain moans, Dimitri gasps in pleased response, clearly getting off on torturing him. “Yes, like that, simply stunning. You always try to please those around you, I adore that about you, though I wish it were easier to get you to lie back and allow _yourself_ to feel good. You deserve to feel good, Sylvain. You are kind, and intelligent, and make Fodlan better every day with your keen insight and clever criticism. You deserve this and more, truly.”

Soon Sylvain is whimpering, straining against his binds, trying to nudge Dimitri down with his limited lower body movement to where he _needs_ him. He’s rock hard, leaking against his stomach with no friction to relieve him.

“Dimitri, please, I—I can’t take it, please,” he sobs.

“Please what? If you tell me what you desire, I will be happy to fulfill it.”

Sylvain blushes and tries his best to bury his face in the mattress. It’s too horrifically embarrassing. He can’t ask his king to take care of him; he can’t ask _Dimitri_ for what he needs. He doesn’t deserve it; he’d be manipulating his dear friend or pressuring him into something uncomfortable, because how on earth could anybody want to tie Sylvain down and get him off? What would anyone possibly get out of that?

He doesn’t know how to have sex without offering himself up for his partner’s desires; he doesn’t deserve to take instead of give.

Dimitri takes Sylvain’s face gently in his hands. His blue eye searches Sylvain’s brown ones fervently. His voice, though, is soft, unhurried, if a little out of breath. “Please, Sylvain,” he says quietly. “I cannot tell you how desperately I desire you. I hope it is clear from my reactions”—he emphasizes his _reactions_ by pressing his hips into Sylvain’s—“but I have no desire to do anything that would upset you like last time. I want to fulfill _your_ desires, _because_ they’re your desires. Nobody else could do this to me.” He nuzzles against Sylvain’s neck, breathing him in. “I want to touch you, hear you, feel you, exactly as you need, please.” He’s panting a little now, and ducks his head to hide his flush. “So please, I implore you, tell me how to serve you. I want to. Feel how much I want to.” He grinds his cock, still clothed, into Sylvain’s hip, and digs his fingers into his shoulders hard enough to bruise.

Dimitri seems to understand that Sylvain needs time to process what he just said. He continues his ministrations for several minutes. When Sylvain sobs, as Dimitri is busy kissing and nipping at Sylvain’s inner thighs, Dimitri asks again, “please, Sylvain. What do you want?” He hums, pleased, when Sylvain’s trembling legs wrap around his shoulders.

A tear escapes despite Sylvain’s best efforts. “My—fuck, Dimitri—your mouth, your hands, _my_ hands, anything, I don’t care, just let me come, please, I can’t stand it, please...”

Dimitri gasps softly. His eye flutters shut and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“You ask so sweetly, dear,” he says, smiling. “I cannot deny you when you are trying so wonderfully for me.” He finally, blessedly, takes Sylvain’s dick in his hand, and even that light touch is enough to draw another desperate moan from Sylvain’s lips. Instead of providing sweet friction though, he pushes it gently forward and leans down to envelop one of Sylvain’s balls in his mouth. He sucks lightly and flicks against it with his tongue.

Another tear slides down Sylvain’s face. His hips try to buck up but Dimitri holds him down firmly with his other hand and straddles his legs. Sylvain is completely pinned to the bed and Dimitri won’t even have the decency to fuck him, instead sucking on his balls like they’re sweets. Sylvain sobs again.

“More, Dimitri, more, please, it’s so good, don’t stop,” he manages. All the shame is fast leaving his body as his brain fills with a desperate overwhelmed fog.

Dimitri moans around him as soon as Sylvain calls him _good_. As if in reward, he smiles beatifically and licks one smooth teasing strip up Sylvain’s length. Sylvain starts crying fully now as Dimitri pulls away, the blessed relief cut abruptly short. He distantly registers a shaky voice begging for more through wet gasps before he realizes the voice is his own.

Dimitri, torturously, still avoids touching his cock. Instead, he gently bends Sylvain’s knees up and pushes his thighs apart. He eyes Sylvain hungrily and sinks down to press his mouth against his hole. He licks and kisses around the rim, slowly wetting everything with spit. Sylvain almost blacks out when Dimitri starts to lick _into_ him, pressing the tip of his tongue firmly inside him. His entire body feels like a taut wire, shivering and on edge, ready to snap. Every movement and sound Dimitri makes against him is heightened. He clenches tight around Dimitri’s tongue inside him in desperate anticipation of what must be coming soon.

“Fuck, f-fuck, Dimitri, oh my god, don’t stop.” Sylvain can’t hold back his incoherent rambling and his words spill out in a rush. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears spilling over, but at Dimitri’s muffled gasp and heavy panting he opens them again.

Dimitri has kicked off his pants and is thrusting into his hand, face still buried between Sylvain’s thighs. He groans and digs into Sylvain’s hip with his other hand to steady himself. Bright bursts of pain focus Sylvain and pull him back into his head. Dimitri’s fingers are definitely going to bruise. Sylvain wants them to never fade, to stay tattooed on him forever, marking him unequivocally as Dimitri’s.

The sounds Dimitri’s making are hotter than anything Sylvain’s ever heard. He wants to hear more, he wants to see Dimitri’s face, he wants to know how good he’s making Dimitri feel, he wants... “I want more, come on Dimitri, I want to feel you inside me, please, ple—aah—ase.” His voice cracks as Dimitri pauses and looks up at him hungrily.

“Anything for you,” Dimitri says roughly. He slides one finger inside Sylvain easily, and quickly slicks up his other hand with the precum beading on Sylvain’s cock. With two fingers he starts to fuck in and out faster. It’s so good but it’s not enough, and just as Sylvain opens his mouth to ask, Dimitri adds a third finger, shoves them deep inside him, and crooks them forward.

Sylvain cries out. He’s never been able to come just like this but he thinks he might now. Dimitri takes his time, thrusting deep and hard but staying slow, holding Sylvain’s hips down with his other hand and watching Sylvain fall to pieces beneath him. His dick is hanging hard between his legs and leaking but instead of doing anything about it, he leans forward and swallows as much of Sylvain as he can manage. Dimitri bobs up half of his cock twice as he thrusts right against his prostate.

Tears are actually falling down Sylvain’s face now at how good it feels. “Fuck, Dimitri, I’m going to—” he can’t even finish the sentence before he feels it about to happen, his whole body tensing and going hot.

Dimitri keeps a steady pace until he wrings Sylvain’s orgasm out of him. Sylvain whites out as he comes in Dimitri’s mouth and is dead to the world. For a minute he just lies there panting, trying to quell his tears.

When Sylvain returns to his senses, Dimitri looks more affected than Sylvain feels. He’s slack-jawed, hazy-eyed, with Sylvain’s come spilling over his lips and down his chin. Unable to form a complete sentence even, he gasps, “I—Sylvain, I—oh, goddess—”

Sylvain realizes Dimitri’s thrusting against his leg desperately, seemingly not aware of it. He stretches across Sylvain to kiss him deeply, grinding into his thighs in shuddering stutters.

And Sylvain loves it, he wants to see Dimitri come apart all the way, but he wants to feel it just as badly. “Wait, Dimitri—wait—I want—” It’s too embarrassing to ask, he wishes he could just grab Dimitri and line him up and speak with his actions instead of his words. But he can’t, and he’s floating in a pleasurable haze he doesn’t want to ruin.

Dimitri finally stops torturing him in his apparent desperation. “You want me, to, to fu— I can’t say it.” He blushes, the prude, even given everything they just did.

Sylvain lets his legs fall open, realizing Dimitri responds more to his pleasure than Dimitri’s own, and sighs, “ _please_.” He looks away, embarrassed. “I want you. Make me come again.”

Dimitri kisses Sylvain’s cheek, then grabs his chin and turns his head to claim his lips.

“Then I am yours,” he says simply.

Because Sylvain is an idiot, all he says to that is, “nice.”

Dimitri, blessedly, ignores that. He maneuvers Sylvain’s legs up and folds Sylvain’s knees back. As he lines himself up, he implores, “please tell me if I am doing anything not to your liking, or if I should stop, or change anything, or —”

“Okay, yeah, I get it. Dimitri, you could not possibly do anything wrong right now, holy shit,” Sylvain cuts him off.

Dimitri moves excessively gently, too gently, and his first few tries don’t have enough force behind them. Instead of filling Sylvain, he slides back and forth between his cheeks. It’s not what Sylvain wanted but it still wrings a groan out of him as Dimitri brushes against his balls with every thrust. The wet tip of his cock, lubricated with precum, drives right against his base and as Sylvain stutters another moan, Dimitri gasps with him.

“I, I, Sylvain, I think I am going to... I feel...”

“Not yet, please Dimitri, I need you, wait, fuck—”

Dimitri draws back and starts pinching Sylvain’s nipples, fondling Sylvain’s chest as he catches his breath. It’s like he’s tugging on a line that goes right to Sylvain’s dick. Sylvain cries out; unable even to writhe away with his upper body pinned, all he can do is lie there and take it. He drops his head down to the pillow and tries not to be too loud. While Dimitri tries to calm himself down, he’s winding Sylvain up torturously.

When Dimitri finally presses into him, he’s not expecting it. Sylvain cries out even at Dimitri’s tip pushing slowly, so slowly, past his rim. He’s never been stretched like this, it’s more than he could have imagined, equal parts pleasure and pain.

Dimitri’s breath comes in heaving pants. “Goddess, you’re so tight.” He still sounds on the brink, and he freezes with his head bent almost to Sylvain’s chest for a few torturous moments. Finally he pushes further in, trembling. “You feel so... so good, Sylvain, darling,” he says, his voice shaking too.

The praise floors Sylvain again, making his dick twitch though he knows it will take a bit before he’s fully hard again.

When Dimitri is fully inside of him, Sylvain feels a little like he’s split in half. It’s just as incredible as he’d imagined.

“F-fuck, Dimitri, you’re so big,” he stutters, toes curling. “Bigger than I’ve ever had, oh shit, go faster, please.” He’s hardly aware of what he’s saying at this point, all his attention focused on the thick cock inside of him and Dimitri’s heavy breathing.

Dimitri complies. He stays maddeningly gentle, hands fisted against the mattress, clearly trying not to hurt Sylvain. But Sylvain wants—he wants— “Harder, Dimitri, harder, please.” He’s slept with men before in various positions but never like this, never the one to lie back and let his partner take care of him. He’d never think to ask—to _beg_ , to _demand_ —for what he needs, either. It’s dizzying. It’s incomprehensible.

And Dimitri _listens_. It’s not what he seems to prefer, but he does what Sylvain needs, because he wants to—he wants to make Sylvain feel good, apparently, unfathomably. He fucks Sylvain into the mattress, fucks him so hard he has to brace his tied hands against the headboard to prevent his head from slamming into it, fucks him until he can’t think, until there’s only heat and pleasure.

Sylvain is right on the edge. “Touch me, please, Dim—Dima, make me come, I’m so close,”

“I’m—I am, too,” Dimitri stutters out

“Tell me how it feels, I want to hear you, I want to hear how good I’m making you feel, fuck, Dimitri”

“I-It feels... oh, Sylvain, you’re so tight, so hot, so so good, good,” Dimitri sobs, slamming into Sylvain at the perfect angle with every “good,” pumping his dick hard and fast, and Sylvain is shaking apart at the seams as he comes again, all over his chest and so hard that one stream even hits his own chin.

When Sylvain opens his eyes, Dimitri has stilled above him, staring at him, mouth hanging open in shock. His eye wide and unblinking, he gently strokes Sylvain’s cheek. Sylvain smiles, lazy and happy and incredibly relaxed, and leans into Dimitri’s hand. In response, Dimitri gasps, says, “Oh,” in a shaky voice, and finishes.

After a few hard, slow thrusts, pumping Sylvain full, Dimitri pulls out. Sylvain’s thighs are drenched and sticky. Dimitri sits staring at them breathlessly for a moment, blinking.

When Dimitri moves away, probably only a few seconds later, Sylvain realizes he’s trembling. Dimitri lies down beside him and takes him into a warm embrace. Broad hands caress his hair and shoulders, and Sylvain takes a moment to breathe. He’s floating in a warm daze, only vaguely noticing as Dimitri unties him and massages his hands. Usually this is the point where regret and shame drive him back into his own bed, but things are different with Dimitri as per usual. Sylvain’s content to lie back as Dimitri cleans him up with a warm damp cloth and peppers his face with light kisses.

When Sylvain’s arms stop tingling, he flexes his fingers and wraps as much of himself around Dimitri as he can manage. They lie tangled together, face-to-face, occasionally kissing. He can’t keep this ridiculous sappy smile from his face.

“Hey,” he finally says, nuzzling into Dimitri’s chest.

“Hello,” Dimitri replies, stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Do you seriously have to ask me that? Fucking amazing, Dimitri, how about you?”

“Ah, yes, good as well, I suppose that was a given,” he replies.

“Was it, uh, as good as you thought it would be?” Sylvain asks, feeling a little fragile.

Dimitri beams. “I could never have imagined this, Sylvain. You exceeded anything I dared to dream of.”

“Yeah, you too,” Sylvain says, starting to feel incredibly weird. This is typically when he tries to run away and never see the person again. Instead, he’s just... happy. Just content, to lie here and cuddle into Dimitri’s side, secure in the knowledge that they both want each other exactly as they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! especially thanks to everyone who’s commented, you’re all just the best <3  
> stay safe out there <3<3


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